Read Online Zombies! (Episode 4): The Sick and the Dead by Ivan Turner - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ivan Turner
Tags: Zombies
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enter the bedroom. Every sense he had was telling him to wait for Culph. Those senses told him how vulnerable he was, how traumatized he was, how sick he was. They reminded him about his wife and his little girl and what Stemmy's death had done to his family. And yet those senses weren't nearly as strong as the senselessness. Mechanically, he walked the three paces to the bedroom and stood in the doorway. Light spilled inside from behind him. He cast a long shadow. There was no light switch near the door and the lamp was on the bedside table.
Rooted to his spot, Heron took a quick evaluation of the room. There was a bed, bedside table, and chair, situated next to the bed as if someone had been comforting Suzanna in her final hours. There was a dresser. The bed sheets were rumpled and bunched up. There could be someone in the bed but it was too hard to tell.
"Where are you," he whispered into the dark.
It answered him with a low moan. It was almost but not quite the same as the moans he had heard previously. This one had less of a voice to it. The same mocking rush of air through the dead pipes was recognizable, but it was a mere whisper compared to the others. It came from behind the bed.
Finding his strength, Heron moved into the room. He held his gun close to his body, aware that there could be more than one zombie. Clearly there had been a struggle in the bathroom. But there was no blood anywhere else. There wasn't even a trail from the bathroom to the bedroom. He'd have noticed that right away. As he came around the side of the bed he noticed its feet. They were just shadows in the dim room. Bare, they protruded out as if the zombie itself were propped up against something. Giving the feet a wide berth, he swung around the side of the bed and took it in fully. Even in the dim light, he could tell that its head was badly ruined. The hair looked almost glued into a crazy pattern on the side of its head. Someone had bashed that head repeatedly against the side of the bathtub. Someone had left this zombie for dead. But it wasn't dead. It had dragged itself from the bathroom to the bedroom, the blood from its wounds so dried that it didn't even dirty the floor.
What was left of Suzanna DeForest tilted its head up toward Heron. He could tell that it wanted to move, wanted to attack him. But its wounds were severe. He wondered about the effect of the blows to the head. He wondered if it had actually healed.
He took aim and fired. The single bullet punched into its brain. It spasmed once and then lay still. Heron just stood there in the dark, staring at it until Culph came rushing in, rifle in hand. He was half done with his gear, no helmet, no pads. He wasn't wearing the belt. He looked once at the corpse on the ground and then looked up at Heron. There was a lot of anger in that look.
A lot of anger.
***
ABBY was just about out the door when Whitaker called her back. He had the phone in his hand and told her with no attempt to disguise his contempt that it was her boyfriend . With a sour look, she came back into the gym and took the cordless phone from him over the counter. It was Heron.
"I have bad news," he said after they'd gotten over the pleasantries.
She went cold. "Is it Suzanna?"
"Yes," he said. "I'm sorry."
"Jesus," she whispered. "It…she was one of them?"
"Yes."
"It's not right," Abby moaned. "It's just not right?"
"There's more," Heron said. "There are signs that someone was here with her, but there's no one here now. They must have fought because Ms. DeForest was badly wounded. Does she have any other friends at the gym that we can question? We need to know who was here with her."
"Can't, I don't know, forensics tell you that?"
"Yes, of course," he told her. "We have a forensics team here now and there's plenty of evidence but it may not lead us to an identity. Is there anyone you can think of?"
"Sure," Abby said, moving
Rooted to his spot, Heron took a quick evaluation of the room. There was a bed, bedside table, and chair, situated next to the bed as if someone had been comforting Suzanna in her final hours. There was a dresser. The bed sheets were rumpled and bunched up. There could be someone in the bed but it was too hard to tell.
"Where are you," he whispered into the dark.
It answered him with a low moan. It was almost but not quite the same as the moans he had heard previously. This one had less of a voice to it. The same mocking rush of air through the dead pipes was recognizable, but it was a mere whisper compared to the others. It came from behind the bed.
Finding his strength, Heron moved into the room. He held his gun close to his body, aware that there could be more than one zombie. Clearly there had been a struggle in the bathroom. But there was no blood anywhere else. There wasn't even a trail from the bathroom to the bedroom. He'd have noticed that right away. As he came around the side of the bed he noticed its feet. They were just shadows in the dim room. Bare, they protruded out as if the zombie itself were propped up against something. Giving the feet a wide berth, he swung around the side of the bed and took it in fully. Even in the dim light, he could tell that its head was badly ruined. The hair looked almost glued into a crazy pattern on the side of its head. Someone had bashed that head repeatedly against the side of the bathtub. Someone had left this zombie for dead. But it wasn't dead. It had dragged itself from the bathroom to the bedroom, the blood from its wounds so dried that it didn't even dirty the floor.
What was left of Suzanna DeForest tilted its head up toward Heron. He could tell that it wanted to move, wanted to attack him. But its wounds were severe. He wondered about the effect of the blows to the head. He wondered if it had actually healed.
He took aim and fired. The single bullet punched into its brain. It spasmed once and then lay still. Heron just stood there in the dark, staring at it until Culph came rushing in, rifle in hand. He was half done with his gear, no helmet, no pads. He wasn't wearing the belt. He looked once at the corpse on the ground and then looked up at Heron. There was a lot of anger in that look.
A lot of anger.
***
ABBY was just about out the door when Whitaker called her back. He had the phone in his hand and told her with no attempt to disguise his contempt that it was her boyfriend . With a sour look, she came back into the gym and took the cordless phone from him over the counter. It was Heron.
"I have bad news," he said after they'd gotten over the pleasantries.
She went cold. "Is it Suzanna?"
"Yes," he said. "I'm sorry."
"Jesus," she whispered. "It…she was one of them?"
"Yes."
"It's not right," Abby moaned. "It's just not right?"
"There's more," Heron said. "There are signs that someone was here with her, but there's no one here now. They must have fought because Ms. DeForest was badly wounded. Does she have any other friends at the gym that we can question? We need to know who was here with her."
"Can't, I don't know, forensics tell you that?"
"Yes, of course," he told her. "We have a forensics team here now and there's plenty of evidence but it may not lead us to an identity. Is there anyone you can think of?"
"Sure," Abby said, moving
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